


Barnes's Birthday

by LieutenantSaavik



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Birthdays, Fluff, M/M, No Sex, Safe For Work, Wakanda, correct grammar, fluff. perhaps a little angst but really mostly fluff people, i want them to be happy, post CA: CW, stucky fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-15 05:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7208906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LieutenantSaavik/pseuds/LieutenantSaavik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve decides to take Bucky Barnes out of Cryostasis to celebrate his birthday while Natasha hatches a conspiracy to get him and Bucky to make out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Plot is Hatched

Steve’s anxious. Actually, everyone’s anxious. A sense of almost palpable anticipatory energy hangs over the entire fortress. They’re all in T’Challa’s castle, a huge, ornate  vibranium-and-black-marble monolith atop the tallest hill in Wakanda. Tony Stark grumbled the most about it, but even he showed up. His and Steve’s rooms are the farthest apart from anyone in the castle, of course, but the few moments where they pass each other in the hallway, the air seems to freeze over with their anger and awkwardness. Poor Natasha has long since stopped trying to smooth things over.

She and Wanda insisted in sharing a room, despite there being several to spare in the palace. No explanation was offered by either party, but Bruce Banner was found crying in the bathroom with a bottle of Vodka a few days ago (Nat vehemently denied a breakup, saying “we were never really together in the first place”).

Clint’s family has a wing to themselves, since his kids make a ruckus (and nobody wants to see him and Laura making heart eyes at each other every hour of the day). Sam’s a hit with the kids; they all want to see him fly, much to T’Challa’s amusement and scorn.

The only Avenger missing is Thor, who apparently has “royal business” and really can’t be bothered. Tony and Bruce pretend to miss him.

 

It’s March tenth, which means in just a few hours, Bucky’s going to be woken up.

  
  


Steve paces around his room. So much of it is black - dark mahogany furniture, black marble floor. A stone panther is placed above every bedroom door, something that unnerved every Avenger in the palace. Shrugging, Steve had largely ignored it. But today he was ignoring nothing. Bucky was coming back, if only for a day, and even with all his disciplinary military training, Steve couldn’t sit still for a moment.

There was a knock at the door. Steve stopped pacing to open it, revealing Natasha’s smirking face. She tilted her head backwards in the snarky way only she could. “Aren’t you gonna come down to the ballroom?” she asked, hands on hips. “We’re doing this for  _ your _ best buddy, you know. And come on -- you can’t expect  _ me _ to pick out streamer colors. Now hurry up, before Barton paints the whole room pink.  _ Don’t think he won’t do it. _ ”

Steve nodded wordlessly and Natasha dropped the smile, placing a hand on his arm tenderly. “It’ll be okay, Steve,” she said calmly. “Just relax. It’s only some party planning.”

He followed her out and down in the elevator, breaking a path he had traveled every day of his weeklong stay at Wakanda. When everyone was asleep,  he would unlatch his door and pad down the hallway, but instead of taking the elevator, he’d choose take the ten flights of stairs (stairs were fine. Elevators still scared the 1940s Steve he used to be; not that he’d ever admit it) and head straight down to the bottommost basement to stand by the cryostasis tube for hours. Once, T’Challa had been there, too. Once, he’d seen Tony and had turned right around; that had been the only night he hadn’t spent by Bucky’s side.

The elevator slid to a silent stop. The doors slid open, equally soundlessly. A large empty chamber had been filled with balloons of every color. Steve looked sideways down the adjoining hallway where he knew Bucky was, but Nat didn’t allow him to linger. “Come on,” she said again, pulling him onward. “You’ll get to moon over him all you like in just a few hours.”

 

A few hours. A few hours until he’d see Bucky again. A few hours. If there was any way to repay Bucky for all the comfort and safety he’d given Steve during WWII -- well, Steve knew he had to try something.

“Ey, Steve! Check this out!” came a voice, jarring him from his reverie. “Red or pink? Or blue?” 

Clint Barton, true to Natasha’s prophecy, was holding three buckets of paint, one of them electric pink, with one eyebrow raised. “D’you know Bucky’s favorite color?”

“I-” said Steve shakily. He shook his head. “He never said.”

Clint nodded with too much sympathy and put all three buckets down. “Well, you should pick the color. He’s your Bucky, after all.”

_ Your Bucky. Your Bucky? _

“Blue,” Steve said, without conviction. “I’m just going to get a drink of water, okay?”

“Take note everybody; the super-soldier drinks,” observed Natasha sarcastically, hefting a truly massive paintbrush over her shoulder and dripping vibrant blue onto the floor. She flung Steve a mock salute and slapped the brush onto the wall, “accidentally” soaking Clint’s entire uniform in the acrylic backsplash. Steve rolled his eyes ( _ Can you believe these idiots? _ ) and left the room, almost running directly into King T’Challa.

“I’m so sorry, your highness-” he began. 

“Steve,” said T’Challa, in his deep, calming voice, “Come with me.”

You can’t argue with a king, so Steve followed him mutely.

 

“Steve,” T’Challa said again. “My father was as wise as the stars. And he told me one thing about love that I will always remember, as long as I live. He told me that if you have a love you do not reveal, it will, for a time, bloom large, like a flower. But going so long in the dark without a voice, it will shrivel and die.”

 

He stared into Steve’s eyes searchingly. “Yours has gone very long without a voice, but it is strong. You fought me, a king, a warrior, for this man. You broke your friends apart for this man. You traveled to the ends of the earth to end the one who would end him. You would die for him, and he for you. Why have you not told him how you love him?”

Giving Steve another long look, T’Challa passed him and joined Clint with the paint and streamers. Steve remained where he was for a long, silent moment, before walking up the stairs to the fresher air.

 

Down in the basement, Steve-less chaos ensued, per Avengers norm. “I BAKED A CAKE!” announced Vision, practically deafening everyone in the room with his excitement. He floated in the door, the proud standard-bearer of a confectionary disaster that looked like a wedding cake that had been through a blender. “DO YOU LIKE IT?”

Wanda slipped into the door behind him. “Hey, you used the door, Vis!” she said, all congratulatory. “You’ll be a pro at making entrances in no time! Just, mmmm...” she dropped her voice, “don’t be quite so loud next time.”

She turned, smiling, to everyone else in the basement, bowing slightly to T’Challa, who nodded respectfully back. Her expression changed as she took in the irregular paint splatters, the balloons and streamers carelessly strewn all over the floor, and Bruce Banner’s sulky look. Shaking her head and muttering about how hopeless the Avengers were without her, she whisked her hands. Instantly, streamers and balloons lifted themselves from the floor and draped themselves perfectly around the room. Natasha whistled appreciatively, while Bruce, lurking in a corner, just looked annoyed. “Where’s Tony?” he asked from his chair. “Upstairs,” Natasha replied. “I think he’s devising a way to steal as much vibranium as he can.”

T’Challa chucked. “Good luck with that,” he muttered, shaking his head disgustedly. “All you people are all the same.”

“Sorry,” said Wanda, a bit awkwardly, and continued single-handedly turning the mess of a basement into a passable party room. Bruce began sneezing frantically. “I think I’m allergic to your magic,” he said, making a hurried exit. “That’s statistically improbable,” objected Vision. “Her powers originated within the realms of the mindstone. They-”

“Pffff, let him have his generic excuse,” snarked Natasha. “He probably wants to go wail to Tony about how unfair-”

“Please,” said Vision calmly, meeting Black Widow’s eyes. “He’s upset.”

Natasha nodded, a bit of guilt creeping across her face. She headed out after Bruce and a quiet conversation was heard for a few moments. “They must have been in some sort of argument,” Vision mused. “I wonder what about?”

Scarlet Witch blushed and made a show of fixing an already perfectly-draped streamer. T’Challa rolled his eyes. 

“Is there a place to place this cake?” Vision asked. “I’ll get a table,” Natasha called, poking her head back into the room before vanishing again.

 

***

 

Sam peered down into the courtyard to see Steve sitting at a bench, looking pensively at the large, exotic flowers. He considered walking up to Steve like a normal person but soon discarded the idea in favor of something a little more unusual. He threw on his suit and leapt out the window. “On your left,” he whooped, soaring down. 

Steve looked up and grinned widely. “Hey there, Sam.”

“Are you okay?”

The smile faded and Steve sighed. 

“Honestly? I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” 

It was a simple sentence, but to admit, even to himself, that he was in over his head was something Steve had never really been able to admit; not even when he was the scrawny Brooklyn kid protesting that yes, this time, he would have won those fights.

“Since Bucky went back into the ice and Tony and the Avengers split and… well, you know, I just feel like everything’s gone strange. I was made to be a hero, yet here I am, a fugitive. You all are internationally wanted criminals. We owe millions and millions of dollars in the airport lawsuit, Wanda feels like a murderer, I can’t look Tony in the eye, Rhodes can barely walk...”

“I get it, man. Things really went to shit, huh?”

“That’s one way to put it,” muttered Steve, shaking his head in exasperation. 

“Well, you’ll see your pal again in just a few hours, right?”

“I don’t know!” Steve hissed. “Bucky said he wanted to stay under. We’re waking him up to throw him a party but I don’t know how he’d react. He’s different… it’s like I don’t know him at all. But in some ways, it’s like I’ve never known him better.”

Sam shook his head and sat next to Steve. “As long as you’re there for him, he’ll be fine. And think about it. I think he needs you.”

“Needs me?” It had always been Steve who needed Bucky. Bucky, who pulled him from those stupid, immature fights he’d gotten himself into. Bucky, who was always  _ there _ .

“Oh, come on,” said Sam, getting a bit frustrated with Steve’s moping. “Bucky has pretty much nothing now. You’re the one link he has back to who he used to be. You’re both like a hundred years old, after all.”

He got up, leaving Steve to his thoughts. “I have a party to throw,” he said, flaring his wings. “Come join us when you come out of mopesville.”

Steve nodded, giving Sam another smile and, uncharacteristically, letting the insult slide. “Will do.”

 

***

 

Vision placed the cake on the table grandly, floating back to admire it from another angle. 

“It looks like a demented-ass wedding cake,” observed a voice loudly. Tony Stark slouched into the room in jeans and a frayed grey tee shirt. “Who made this… this  _ thing _ ?”

“By ‘thing’ I think you mean culinary masterpiece, and Vis did,” said Wanda. “He worked very hard.”

“Hm… Wedding cake, you say?” asked Natasha, eying the confection. “Well, that’s fitting for those two. And it gives me an idea…”

“ _ She’s doing the thing! _ ” yelled Clint, pointing. 

“What?” asked Natasha, turning. 

“The thing!!”

“The what??”

“When she squints her eyes like that it means she’s planning something that’s a bad, bad, very- _ ver _ y-bad idea.”

Natasha laughed. “Ok, you got my number.” She dropped her voice conspiratorially. “I think we should get Steve and Bucky to make out.”

This got a couple perplexed stares. “But wouldn’t he be cheating on-” began Bruce, who had, unnoticed, re-entered the room.

“His romance with Sharon ended just two weeks after it started,” offered Vision.

“Two weeks?”

“I’m surprised it got past one! She’s Peggy’s niece, for the love of god,” continued Natasha. “Isn’t that a little weird? And come on; every night Steve goes down to the basement to moon over Bucky. He never sleeps at night; that’s why he’s so tired.”

“There’s really no reason why it couldn’t happen,” said Wanda slowly, thinking. “His loyalty for Bucky is, in part, what drove the team apart.” She risked a glance at Tony, who was glaring fiercely at the floor. “Mr. Stark, uh…” She still addressed some members of the team formally.

Tony lifted his head. “He was brainwashed, wasn’t he? It wasn’t really Bucky Barnes who did it. It was HYDRA. They invaded a person.”

“If you don’t want to be a part of the…” began Nat.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” shrugged Stark. “I think I have to put their deaths to rest somehow. And I can’t do it if I’m blaming the wrong person. You know, I saw him once, in that tube. He looked pretty vulnerable. Almost dead, in a way. The murders… it… it wasn’t him.” He paused and exhaled a puff of what might have been self-deprecating laughter. “I also blasted his arm off. So there’s that.”

Natasha smiled slightly. “So we’re all go for the plan?”

“To make Steve and Bucky kiss, you mean?” 

“I’m in,” announced Wanda. “I do believe they love each other. I have seen it. They are tied.”

“Whatever the hell this is, I’m in!” called a previously absent Sam, sauntering in. “Are we plotting an epic romance?”

“We sure as hell are,” said Clint firmly. “We need some more joy in this team.”

“Sure; why not,” shrugged Bruce. “Hey Tony -- how long do you think it’s gonna take?”  
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Who knows? Before the end of the hour, if we set things up right.”

“Not _ that _ soon!”

“Wanna bet?”

“You’re on, Tony Stank.”

“GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT-BRUCE-NOBODY-EVER-CALL-ME-THAT-AGAIN,” shouted Tony, all in one breath.

Natasha dissolved in laughter, soon joined by everyone else on the team. “It’s almost time,” she observed, looking at the clock. “Someone get Steve.”

  
  


***


	2. Don't Ever Let The Avengers Throw A Party In A Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King T'Challa, letting the Avengers throw a birthday party here was probably a Bad Idea.

“I’ll do it,” said Wanda, which got a few surprised stares. “No weird emotional baggage, unlike the rest of you.”

Natasha snorted loudly, then looked thoughtful. “She’s right, though,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Alright, we’ll finish up painting before you go.” She grabbed her paintbrush again and stood.

Clint took one look at the paintbrush and sidled away, his uniform still covered in the blue. “Uh, Nat? Maybe someone else should paint?”

Wanda rolled her eyes, raised her hands, brought her magic to life, and lifted Nat’s paintbrush, stroking it across the wall and completing the room, which became a cohesive shade of blue. 

Natasha eyed the walls with a critical eye, then turned back. “Is everything satisfactory?”

“There’s not nearly enough furniture in here,” proclaimed Bruce. “Get a couch or something, at least.”

“On it,” said Clint. “King T’Challa,” he asked, bowing respectfully, “would you mind if we borrowed one of your couches?”

“The one in the fourth room up one flight of stairs should do,” said T’Challa, smiling but making no move to assist him. “I’ll go help,” offered Wanda, flicking her fingers. “I can lift it.”

The two of them left.

“Anything else, do you think?”

“No idea,” shrugged Tony. “I mean, it looks like a party to me?”

The room was a pale blue and draped with slightly waving streamers, giving it the illusion of airiness. Balloons of every color drifted along on the top of the slightly arched, white ceiling. A table with the “cake” sat in the middle of the room.

“WAIT I NEED MY BANNER,” yelled Sam.

“Huh?” asked Bruce, confused.

Sam darted from the room.

“Like a party banner?”

“I’d suppose so,” mused Vision. He floated down a few inches. “So this is what a party looks like? I was expecting something slightly louder, to be frank.”

“This is a party set-up,” corrected Natasha. “The real party hasn’t even started yet.”  
“I’m excited!”

“Good for you, Vis,” panted Clint, returning with Wanda. She had the entire couch lifted two feet above the ground, but it appeared that Clint was straining to hold it up anyway.

They let down the table and Clint pushed it to the back of the room. Wanda stepped aside to reveal another two tables she had levitated behind her. “Your majesty, could we possibly use these tables as well?”

T’Challa nodded regally, hiding his amusement at these idiots’ shenanigans. If not for the remains of his guilt over his attempted murders of Bucky Barnes and the heavy emphasis Wakandans placed on honor and courage, he might have banished the lot of them from Wakanda permanently.

Might have.

 

Sam returned with a party banner that read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUCKY.” T’Challa, the only one who could plan a party with any competence at all, produced three tablecloths he’d been hiding all along. Natasha scrounged up some quiet music to play on her dust-covered CD player. Tony and Bruce walked all around the room, fixing some of the decorations.

“Is everything alright?” asked Natasha, somewhat tiredly. 

The Avengers nodded. 

“Alright. Which one of us is gonna wake Bucky up?”

“Shouldn’t Steve do it?” asked Bruce.

“Nah; he’s gotta be here to surprise ’im.”

“I could do it,” offered Sam. “The dude kind of owes me. After all, while you guys were out getting your butts handed back to you by that bitchy-ass metal dude over in Sokovia, I was hauling ass looking for Bucky.”

Natasha pushed out her bottom lip thoughtfully and nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “We all owe you, actually.”

“Don’t thank me, man! I’m happy I stayed out of that Ultron shit.”

“He’s got a point. I wish I could’ve done the same,” conceded Clint.

“Don’t we all?”

“Well,  _ I’m _ a quite glad it happened, seeing as it resulted in my existence.”

“Isn’t that just great for you, Vis.”

“Thank you,” said Vision pleasantly, completely missing the sarcasm. “So it’s settled, then?” He lifted into the air and grasped a bunch of balloons. “Do I look festive?”

“Very,” said Tony dryly, taking a bunch of balloons himself. He looked around at the decorated room. “This’ll be interesting.”

“Yeah, damn right!” Clint agreed, pulling a single green balloon down from the ceiling (he had to jump to reach it, much to Nat’s amusement). “I mean, the last time he saw half of you you were trying to kill him!”

T’Challa nodded. “You are correct. I have my own words to say to Mr. Barnes on the topic.”

“So do I,” added Tony. “That’ll go well.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, as long as you’re sincere,” said Wanda. “Should I go get Steve now?”

“Sure,” said Natasha. Wanda pecked her on the cheek, making her blush, and, smiling, exited the room.

Nat flicked off the lights, plunging the room into darkness. “Everyone in position?”

“OUCH!” yelped Clint as a thud was heard throughout the room. 

“What is it?”

“Toe-stub.”

“On the couch  _ you _ put there?”

“Fuck off, Sam!”

Every Avenger rolled their eyes.  
  


***

Wanda stepped out into the courtyard and sighed in pleasure. She stretched upwards and breathed in the sunlight and the scents of the exotic flowers, taking in the blue sky juxtaposed against the rising noir turrets of T’Challa’s castle. Wakanda was easily the most beautiful place she’d ever seen; everywhere she turned, there was either the grandiose beauty of the country’s architecture or the abundant natural beauty of its fauna.

“Mr. Rogers?” she called out politely, stepping around a large rosebush and seeing Steve sitting alone on a bench. “We’re about to wake up Mr. Barnes.”

“Just call me Steve,” he said, rising from the bench and giving her a tight smile. Wanda noticed how lonely and apprehensive he looked, and she was again struck by the strength of the bond between him and Bucky. 

“They’re waking him up…. right now?” he asked.

“In just a few moments. Natasha wants you to come down to the basement.”

“I’ll be there in just a moment.”

Wanda nodded with a bit of sympathy. “We’ll wait for you there.”

She turned to go, then looked back. “I’m sure everything will be fine, Steve,” she said kindly. “He will be so happy to see you again. And no matter how this party goes, we, the Avengers, are here for you.”

There was a pause.

“Thank you, Wanda. It really does mean a lot.”

She smiled. “Everything is very festive downstairs. I think you’ll like it very much.”

“I’m sure I will.”

 

They headed down the elevator and re-entered the room. “Is it supposed to be so dark?” Steve asked. Natasha flicked on the lights exasperatedly. “Goddammit, Steve! Grab a balloon, find a place to park your ass, and wait for Bucky.” 

A non-plussed but obedient Steve found a place behind the cake, taking a few balloons from the ceiling. Nat flicked the lights back off.

“So who is, um. Who’s waking him up?”

“Sam and T’Challa. Sam because Bucky owes him a few and T’Challa because he doesn’t trust anyone alone with his cryostasis machine. Which makes perfect sense, since we wreck  _ everything _ .”

“Speak for yourself,” muttered Tony.

“Oh, that’s coming from the dude who fucking _made_ Ultron and threw us into this lawsuit mess in the first place-”  
“I’m sorry! I know we’ve destroyed lives. It is, in part, my fault, and-”

“Nobody still blames you, Tony,” said Wanda softly yet forcefully, from the corner. “We have all made our own grave mistakes. What’s important is that we continue to do our very best to help and to heal. We are together now, as a team.”

“Sure wish Thor was here,” muttered Bruce.

“I am,” said a low, Norse voice. There were footsteps. A door opened and closed.

“How the hell did you -- Did you just -- What the  _ absolute fuck _ -”

Natasha, as usual, took it in stride. “Good to see you, Thor. Just in time, I see. Now, grab a balloon, find a place to park your ass, and wait for Bucky like the rest of us dumbasses.”

“So you talk like that even to gods, I see,” observed Wanda, amused.

“Oh, she talks like that to  _ everyone _ . One time, she-” Clint began.

“Shut up shut up shut up!” hissed Natasha. “I think I hear them out in the hallway!”

The room grew silent almost instantly as every Avenger’s face turned towards the doorway.

The door opened. Light from the hallway flooded in, and three silhouettes, two of them supporting the one in the middle, came into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in the process of fixing this work up. Please don't be too harsh in comments. :)


	3. It's Not the Forties Anymore

Natasha bit her lip as the three stepped inside. For all the planning, for all the fun they’d had, it was still Bucky’s reaction that would make or break the whole endeavor. The room was silent, dark, still. Bucky was crumpled, head downward, looking for all the world like a broken ragdoll hanging limp.

Nervously, she crawled her hand up the wall towards the light switch, resting a finger on the top of it, ready at any moment to flood the room with light.

Steve’s eyes were pinned to the Bucky’s silhouette as he stood stock still, noticing nothing else. Years of memories were pouring past him, surrounding him, and he found it almost hard to breathe.

Natasha flicked on the light.

“Surprise!” cried every Avenger, almost perfectly in sync. Balloons were released towards the ceiling. Chairs were scraped across the floor as people hiding hehind them stood up. Someone started clapping; it was probably Thor.

But a shout of agony rang out. Bucky lurched backwards from Sam and T’Challa, instantly dropping into a defensive crouch with his single arm held protectively around his face. He scambled backwards across the floor, away from the sound and the sudden light and hunched his shoulders and feet up to himself, shaking violently.

Steve was at his side in an instant, leaping over the table without even touching the cake.

“Bucky, Bucky,” he blurted, surrounding him protectively with his arms. “Bucky, Bucky, are you alright?”

Bucky didn’t seem to answer. He was trembling and whispering something to himself softly. At first Steve thoght it was “stop, stop,” before realizing it was “Steve, Steve.”

“I’m here, Buck,” he murmured.

 

Natasha slowly relaxed, watching Cap scoop Bucky off the floor seemingly without any effort at all. He gently placed Bucky down and he tipped sideways onto Steve’s shoulder, resting his head there as if he’d never move it. His lips were still moving almost soundlessly; the same two words, like a mantra. “Steve, Steve…”

“I’m here. I’m here,” Steve whispered back to him, holding him in a close embrace. “I’ll always be here. Remember what you told me? Till the end of the line.”  
“Till the end of the line,” Bucky repeated weakly, clinging to the words. Steve supported him to the couch and Bucky collapsed there, tucking himself up protectively again. He moved his shoulder in jerky motions, forgetting for a moment that his arm was gone. “Steve,” he said again, his voice slightly stronger. “You came back for me.”

“I could never leave you, Buck. You’d have done the same for me.”

Bucky was silent for a long, long moment. “But it’s dangerous. Have you found the cure?”

Steve shook his head. 

“Then why..?”

“It’s your birthday,” he said, smiling. “March 10th.”

“What year?”

“Still the same. 2016.”

Bucky raised his head, the most energetic movement he had made that was not fueled by panic. He took in the blue room, the arched ceiling, the cake. His mouth twitched upward, so close to a smile it made Steve ache. “Someone made a cake for me?”

“Vision did.”

“That’s nice…” he said, stretching his arm out towards the confection. He reached for a pillow and used it to prop himself up, looking all around the room as if he couldn’t quite believe it was all real.

“2016?” he asked, and gave a small, tragic laugh. “I mean, I already knew it’s not, but it’s really not. It really -- it’s not the forties anymore, is it?”

“It hasn’t been in a long time, Buck.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

 

Steve shifted. “Well, uh, we can eat the cake, if you want to?”

Bucky gave the same almost-smile. “Could I please have some water first?”

Steve shot to his feet. “Absolutely. Of course. Right away. I’ll be right back-”

“You stay with him,” said Natasha firmly, cutting off Steve’s stream of affirmatives. “I’ll get the water.”

She turned and left.

Steve looked back at Bucky, who was staring at him from between the curtains of his dark hair with a now unreadable expression. “Why?” he said again, his voice almost breaking. “Why, Steve? Why all this for me?”

He struggled and finally sat up fully,  looking at everyone in the room. “You fought them for me,” he said blankly. “Rather than see me dead, you defied the entire world. Why?”

“Because… you were my first friend. My best friend and my only friend. You’re my connection to home, the only thing I have left from… before. You were always there for me. You pulled me from those fights, risking your own neck to do so. You fought for the country. You fought for me, fought  _ with _ me. And years later, you fought against me but  _ you came back _ . You pulled me from the water.”

“And then I ran away.”

“You had to.”

“I should have stayed with you.”

“ _ I _ should have stayed with  _ you _ . I should never have let you be refrozen. I should have protected you better. I should have-” the words started pouring out. “I missed you so much, Bucky! I’d go to the museum and watch that damn movie over and over again to see your face. I memorized every word the exhibit said about you. I must've looked at that picture they had of you for hours; I thought that was all of you I had left! I-”

“I went there, too.” His voice was sad.

“You did?”

“I saw that picture of me. My life as they knew it, all laid out in a handful of paragraphs. I don’t remember the exact wording now. But,” he coughed again, “They called us inseparable. And I remembered that.”

“Well, aren’t we?” said Steve. “Not even all of HYDRA could pull us apart. Not even a half century succeeded. Imagine that, Buck! We beat time.”

Bucky smiled bitterly. “You can add that to your list of things you beat. You’d put it right after ‘winter soldier,’ wouldn’t you?”

“Bucky…”

“I’m the Winter Soldier, Steve. Until they get it out of me, that’s all I am.”

“That’s never true and you know it!”

He stood up again and stared down at Bucky, wanting to make him understand, understand that he was  _ mor _ e than HYDRA’s programming, more than anything they’d tried to make him be.

Bucky met his eyes for a moment, defiance flickering in his own eyes  for a moment before he dropped Steve’s gaze and sank back into the couch, curling up with eyes scrunched shut against the world.

It was then that Natasha returned with three cups of water, one balanced precariously atop the other two. She handed a glass to Bucky wordlessly. He took it in his trembling hand and drank it in four gulps.

“Bucky,” Steve said firmly, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, “You are more than anything people have tried to make you.”

“I killed people.”

“You weren’t you.”

“ _ I killed them. _ ” His voice was choked with anger. “Innocent people who are now dead, gone, ended,  _ erased _ , and it’s  _ because of me! _ ”

“Not because of you! Because of HYDRA!”

“ _ I’m _ HYDRA, Steve. I’m the Winter Soldier! He’s still inside me and all it takes are a handful of words!”

Steve was exasperated now. “What do I have to do to make you understand?! You’re not the Winter Soldier. You never were! That wasn’t you!”

“I have to be  _ cured _ , Steve!”

They were staring at each other, both flushed and breathing hard. Then Bucky began to cough again, his entire body tremoring violently with each explosion of air. He doubled over on the couch, coughing and coughing. Natasha hit him on the back, hard with the heel of her hand, and the shaking slowed, then stopped. Handing him another glass of water, she ordered him to drink in her own unique way; namely,  “Get every bit of that water into your system, Barnes, goddammit. It’ll help you not be so dried out and crispy after that ice tube. Unless you prefer to stay a freezer-burned popsicle.” She stood back, hands on hips, and watched until he had drunk every drop.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky said when he had finished all of the remaining water., “I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know this world. I was taken without a choice and now I can never go back, because everything’s changed and people are older and people are  _ dead _ ! They’re dead, Steve! Everyone I love is dead!”

He coughed again, staring down at the fabric of the couch and working his fingers into the seams as if he were trying to rip them apart. Then he looked up.  “Everyone, I guess, except for you.”

Steve nodded, closer to crying than he’d ever admit. “I know, Buck. I know.”

He reached down and Bucky reached up and they held each other, Bucky with one arm and Steve with both, and both were suddenly crying; tears were streaming down their faces without shame and they were each clinging to the other and trying to heal some of the jagged, torn up wounds that they both had, that they both buried. 

 

Wanda subtly reached a hand out to her side. The tray of the CD player slid open and the CD lying on the table lifted itself and placed itself on the tray before sliding in and beginning to play. Music began to play, melodic music without any words.

 

Bucky stiffened as the sound hit his ears. Then he smiled, closing his eyes to listen. He began to sway back and forth slightly, his smile widening. “Music,” he breathed. “I haven’t heard that in so, so long…”

Steve still had his arms wrapped around the swaying Bucky and before either of them knew it, they were dancing. It was awkward at first, but soon they found the way to fit against each other, Bucky’s face resting against Steve’s shoulder and their fingers laced together.

A wide smile broke out on Natasha’s face and she offered her hand to Wanda, who took it with a grin. She stepped into a traditional Sokovian dance step, her skirt flaring out. Nat imitated it and Wanda laughed, drawing her closer.

Thor was tapping his foot loudly in the corner. T’Challa was grinning and trying hard not to do the same (but not quite succeeding, much to his embarrassment). Sam started solo dancing and pulled it off spectacularly. A perplexed Vision suddenly found his synthetic cerebra filled with an urge to move that he did not understand. He started floating to the beat, something only he could have pulled off. Wanda laughed again and turned the music just a touch louder. Bruce, Clint, and Tony stepped onto the dance floor, followed by Thor and T’Challa, who both looked as if they couldn’t believe that they were actually doing something so stupid and insane. 

The next song had lyrics. Bucky paused to listen.

“ _ Home, home, home, home, _ ” the song began.

“ _ Familiar names _

_ But different faces _

_ Familiar homes _

_ Are now strange places _

_ I miss  _ **_home_ ** _ and it aches _

_ And the world it just shakes _

_ And it takes and it takes and it takes _

_ Me _

_ I miss  _ **_him_ ** _ and it aches _

_ And the world it just  _ **_fakes_ **

_ And it makes and it takes and it breaks _

_ Me. _ ”

“It’s us, Steve,” Bucky said, ears and mind captivated by the lyrics, by the notes.

“ _ Home, home, home, home _

_ Familiar lanes _

_ Are now dirt roads _

_ Now-rusted drains _

_ Water still flows _

_ I miss  _ **_then_ ** _ and it aches _

_ And have I been replaced? _

_ Because the world breaks and it takes me _

_ But the world gave you back _

_ Gave you back on its own _

_ Gave you back to me _

_ It gave me back my home.” _

The tempo slowed.

_ Home, home, home, home _

_ Home, home, home, home _

**_You_ ** _ are home _

_ To me.” _

Steve and Bucky draw closer together. The music is slow, peaceful. They’re aware of their arms around each other, aware of the beat and the melody. Aware of their past. Bucky looks up to Steve’s face. Steve looks into Bucky’s eyes.

“What is this?” asks Bucky. His feet falter and Steve catches him, pulling him nearer. He smiles in that amazing, infuriating way he does where one side of his mouth is higher than the other. His blue eys seem to shine.

“Like you said, Buck. It’s not the forties anymore.”

 

_ “Home, home, home, home _

_ Home, home, home, home _

**_You_ ** _ are home _

_ To me.” _

 

They lean closer together, Bucky stretching out because Steve is just the tiniest bit taller. 

Finally, their lips meet. Bucky gasps and shakes but returns fiercely, reaching up and frantically running his fingers through the base of Steve’s hair. Steve cups his hands behind Bucky’s neck, lifting his face to meet his own with more love, with more urgency. 

And  they just hold each other. The sound, the light, the people fade away and it’s finally the two of them, connecting beautifully in a way that seems meant to be, in a way that has been half a century in the making, in a way that makes sense in a way that nothing in their lives has ever made sense before. They hold each other as if the universe is going to rip them apart. But let it try. 

Steve smiles into Bucky’s urgent lips. Bucky grins so widely he breaks the kiss and falls backward, smiling so giddily it seems like he’ll lift right off the floor. Steve catches him again and quickly pulls him in for another kiss, this one deeper and more practiced. Bucky laughs, really laughs, and the Avengers are clapping and cheering and Vision is serving cake and no matter what the world has in store for any of them, this moment, this moment of joy, this moment existed. “Steve...” whispers Bucky, so lovingly that almost every eye fills with water. And Steve kisses him again, and again, and again, because he’s here, because he  _ can _ , and because nothing will ever break them apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in the process of fixing this work up. The song actually exists! And I wrote it. It's here: https://soundcloud.com/yww-songwriting/bette-vadja-asleep-in-ice?in=yww-songwriting/sets/yww-2016-session-2 (but don't judge it too harshly; this is just the rough draft.)

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t know Bucky had a canon birthday so I was gonna go with March 6 and, as it turns out, the actual date is March 10. Pretty cool coincidence to start off my first Stucky fanfic, huh? 
> 
> I would truly appreciate comments.
> 
> Special thanks to whatthefoucault and ForeverShippingJohnlock for their respective works "The Season For Plums" and "The Right Partner."


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